


Connections

by akire_yta



Series: prompt ficlets [603]
Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 09:59:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19060372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akire_yta/pseuds/akire_yta
Summary: I wish you would write a fic where Virgil starts dating Tycho Reeves. Absolutely adore this pairing but there’s only 1 other fic out there that I’ve spotted.





	Connections

Virgil can’t remember when civvies started feeling odd, and he doesn’t like that he can’t remember.  He smiled in apology at the slim lady in a gorgeous cheongsam sat next to him as he squirmed in his seat, trying to make his button down shirt sit right. She gave him a cool look and turned elegantly to the nothing view out the front of their pod.

He had boarded the Hypercar in Seoul a quarter of an hour ago.  It looked like they were to arrive in Edinburgh right on schedule a quarter past.  As the other passengers hurried away, to collect their bags and travel on, Virgil stepped aside to linger on the platform and admire the sleek curve of the Hypercar.

It looked like Reeves had made more than a few small tweaks to the pod.  Or perhaps they just looked different, gleaming and still on a platform instead of soot-streaked and dented as they bobbed in the river at the bottom of a ravine.

“Well hello shoulders.”

Virgil turned, raising an eyebrow.  “Excuse me?”

Tycho blinked, the same blink Brains had when he was caught mid-flow.  “Did I say- well, uh,” Tycho ran his hand up the back of his skull, wincing.  “We never were introduced, and all I really saw of you were your shoulders as you flew– you are Thunderbird Two, right?”

Virgil glanced around, but all the other passengers were long gone.  “You remember me from my…shoulders?”

“Well, they were very memorable shoulders, on a very memorable day.” Tycho stepped forward, and Virgil may have forgotten what civvies felt like, but even as rusty as he was, he was pretty sure this was flirting.  “Do you have a name, or just a designation?”

“Virgil,” he introduced himself, holding out his hand.  Tycho’s hand was strong, calloused and marked only the way building marks you.

“Virgil,” Tycho savoured the name, and it sounded good in Tycho’s rolling burr.  “Named after the poet, or…?”

“The pilot,” Virgil corrected. 

“How appropriate.” Virgil glanced down, where Tycho was still holding his hand. “So, tell me Virgil, would it be inappropriate to ask you to join me for a cup of tea and, uh, robust discussion of hyperspeed navigation?”

Virgil wrapped his second hand over Tycho’s. “No. But I was going to suggest dinner and not talk about work at all?”

Tycho’s smile is blinding. “Any particularly restaurant?”

Virgil winced, feeling his game crumble.  “I, uh, don’t know. Anywhere good around here?”

Tycho, his hand still in Virgil’s took a step towards the rail, dragging Virgil around with him. “Virgil,” he said, still rolling the name like fine wine. “I built this to connect the world. But perhaps, just this once, we could use it to order take out from your favourite place, and uh-eat in?”

Virgil laughed and let Tycho drag him back towards the pod.


End file.
